


Struck by you

by goldensprite



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Do these characters even go together, Hot professors doing dirty things, I Don't Even Know, Inappropriate use of copy room, Kensei is frustrated and growly, M/M, Oral Sex, Ulquoirra is dismissive and cold, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensprite/pseuds/goldensprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Muguruma Kensei notices the hot new staff member. And then just can't stop noticing. </p>
<p>(also, my writing skills feel rusty, so feedback me hard <3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struck by you

\---  
Kensei had been to enough start-of-term staff parties to know that anything the fresh meat had to say in their little introductory spiels did not mean anything. It was far more entertaining to zone their words out completely and focus instead on their body language; nervous twitches, frozen grins, and mechanical handshakes told him enough, and usually told him that none of the new blood was actually worth his time. 

He was on his seventh glass of alcoholic liquid and losing interest in his drinking game (please-don’t-eat-me body language, take a gulp, someone mentions ‘a passion for shaping fresh new minds’ or ‘changing the world’, chug down a glass), instead occupying himself by sawing the crust off his cheesecake with only his plastic fork, when someone took the floor so smoothly and quietly that Kensei didn’t even notice until the man spoke.

‘My name is Professor Schiffer. I look forward to working with you.’

And Kensei had barely looked up and registered his presence, when the slight man gave a stiff little bow, and walked away.

A tall man with long white hair stepped forward and fumbled his way through a self-deprecating joke, and Kensei only half heard. He watched Professor Schiffer walk toward the back of the hall, refusing food, drink, and conversation offered to him, and calmly exit the room.

Kensei raised an eyebrow as the door drew gently shut. It seemed, from the straightbacked way he walked, the brevity of his speech, and the fact that the little bastard hadn’t even bothered the barest little smile, that maybe one of the newbies had some backbone after all.

\---  
A few days into the new term, Kensei realised that he did not know Professor Schiffer’s first name.

All the new fuckers introduced themselves with their full names, usually with a broad smile and non-threatening palm-down gestures. It was the nice, polite thing to do, which was why Kensei had always hated it.

He’d been crossing the courtyard when he heard someone mention, ‘the reading for Professor Schiffer’s class,’ and realised that he knew as much - probably less - about the man as the students did.

Not to mention, Kensei hadn’t thought of anyone as ‘Professor’ in a long time, and the thought made his lip curl. 

Back in his office, he plucked the start-of-term newsletter out of his trash can and smoothed it out. There, under the S section of ‘New Appointments,’ it read – Professor U. Schiffer.

‘U?’

Kensei’s lips spread in a wide grin. No wonder the little bastard kept introducing himself as Professor Schiffer, no first name. The initial brought to mind thick glasses and stamp-collecting and perpetual, involuntary chastity.

He laughed, and tossed the paper back into the trash.  
\--- 

He heard the name by accident. His teaching assistants had been hindering more than helping, as was par for the course, and Kensei had gotten sick of it and snuck out of his office for a caffeine fix and some blessedly fresh air. And he was only half aware of what the student behind him in the queue at the coffee shop was saying, when she started bemoaning the homework she’d stayed up all night finishing, for Professor Stoneface Schiffer.

He turned to face her so fast she almost squeaked.

‘What’d you call him?’

‘Um…’ She turned wide eyes to her friend, who seemed to have become extremely interested in her sneakers.

Realising he had barked at her (and he knew he’d taught her at some point, but he’d be fucked if he could remember her name), he softened his tone. ‘Does everyone call him that? Relax, I’m just curious.’

‘Oh, um… y-yeah, they do…’ 

She smiled weakly and he smirked back. ‘It suits him,’ he whispered, and the girl and her friend giggled. Out of relief, he suspected.

\--- 

It was, he thought, his mind wandering for the thousandth time from the dreadful student presentation, something about Professor Schiffer’s face.

Although, it would have to be, really. The man wasn’t his type at all - slender and pale and tiny. Breakable. Those enormous eyes made him look... delicate. Doll-like. His hair was so dark against his skin, and so unruly and uneven, like he’d always just stumbled out of bed. He looked like a lost little waif.

All in all, really not Kensei’s type. Wide-eyed, breakable things would not be turning his head anymore.

But the thing was, Schiffer had this mouth. 

Kensei had realised it at a staff meeting, when Schiffer took a drink from a bottle of water.

Professor Schiffer had the sluttiest-looking mouth Kensei had ever seen.

You barely even noticed it, because the little bastard barely moved his lips when he talked. Which was weird all by itself. It was like he didn’t even have lips or something; Kensei suspected he flattened them together most of the time so you didn’t even see them. Whether it was just a habit or something he did to hide just how fuckable they were, Kensei had no idea. 

Professor Schiffer’s skin was pale, paper-pale, but his mouth was dark. Blood-flushed, like they’d been kiss-crushed, or like he’d been sucking cock. And their shape. He had a perfect, pouty little kiss-mouth. Full lips, fuller than you noticed at first glance.

Someone in the class asked a question, and the presenting team answered rather defensively, and someone else snarked back, and Kensei sighed, pushing Professor Schiffer’s lips to the back of his mind, and striding forward to break things up.

\--- 

Kensei hated going in to campus on Saturdays. It damn near physically pained him. But he was late and behind on paperwork, and his teaching assistants were barely worth their weight in pig swill, so here he was, tramping through the corridors feeling like christmas had been cancelled. 

Going past the copy room, he noticed the faint blue light and soft humming noises coming from inside. He smiled. Probably Zaraki. Kensei’s disdain for paperwork was nothing compared to the grumpy old man’s. And as far as defective teaching assistants went, well, they were probably evenly matched.

He pushed the door open, thinking a quick hello wouldn’t make him that much later than he already was (and anyway, he realised, Zaraki owed him fifty bucks from their last poker night), and opened his mouth to call out a greeting, but then found it shutting again.

Professor Schiffer had his back to Kensei, and was neatly stacking piles of papers while the copier hummed and fizzed, his movements as tidy and efficient as ever. 

Kensei’s hands tightened into fists.

Schiffer was wearing dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. The shirt was slightly loose. The jeans, on the other hand, clung to him. It was... debauched. 

_No. It’s just a man wearing some clothes, his mind chimed in._

But then Schiffer stopped stacking papers and took a long drink from a bottle of water, and Kensei wanted to _snarl._

‘What’s your name?’ Kensei barked at him.

Schiffer tilted his head slightly to look over his shoulder. His hair was slightly unrulier than usual. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. Or just been fucked.

‘My name is Pro-’

‘Your first name.’

‘I don’t b-’

Kensei snapped. He slammed the door shut and marched forward. Schiffer turned around and watched calmly as he approached; Kensei banged his hands against the desk on either side of those slim hips, leaning close to that damnable pale face.

‘Tell me your name,’ he growled.

Despite himself, Kensei was impressed. He was glaring down at the little bastard from his full height, shoulders out so he dwarfed him, and the fucker barely blinked. Schiffer merely looked back, his gaze seemingly blank and uninterested.

Kensei smirked at him. ‘Is it that embarrassing?’

Schiffer’s brows drew together slightly.

‘My name is not embarrassing. It is merely none of your concern.’

It was the longest sentence Kensei had ever heard him speak. It was the longest he had ever seen that mouth move. He stared. When the movement stopped, he looked up into Schiffer’s eyes. Dark, dark green. He wanted to see them wide open, squeezed shut. He wanted to see them glazed with want. He realised his own eyes must look that way now. This close he could smell the bastard, sharp and strong, a deep, rich scent that went straight to his cock.

‘I will be done with the copier soon, if you wish to wait.’

And that was that: the little fucker had dismissed him already, even though Kensei was practically breathing down his delicious neck. He turned his body away, and he really was small enough to slip out of Kensei’s grip.

But not quick enough.

Kensei brought his hand up and clenched Schiffer’s jaw. Not hard, just enough to keep him still. He dwarfed the man, and the sight of his tanned, gloved fingers on the smooth, pale flesh made his mouth water. Schiffer’s lips parted slightly at the contact, and Kensei got to see them properly; perfectly curved, downturned, full, dark lips, just begging to be fucked.

He tilted Schiffer’s head back and leaned in, dragging his tongue across that perfect mouth. He took his other hand off the table and gripped one slim hip, making Schiffer gasp slightly. Kensei took the bottom lip between his teeth, biting and sucking, flicking with his tongue. He was, it dawned on him when he heard an obscene moan and realised it had issued from his own throat, ravaging Schiffer’s mouth with the same fervour and delight as when he ate pussy. 

And fuck, but he was hard.

And Schiffer, he realised, had made no movement, neither to respond nor to escape. Kensei pulled back, panting.

Schiffer’s lips were gleaming. The tip of his tongue peeked out to lick at them, almost demurely, and Kensei followed the movement with his eyes. He pressed his thumb against Schiffer’s mouth.

‘Open your mouth, you little bastard,’ he rasped.

Deftly, Schiffer pulled away from him, and Kensei turned to follow, his back bumping against the table. Schiffer was unbuttoning his cuffs and folding them up.

‘Why?’ he asked, quietly.

‘Because I want to see it properly.’

Schiffer turned, giving him a long, damn near featureless look he could not identify, and then the fucker slipped to his knees. Without saying a word, Schiffer had Kensei’s pants undone and around his ankles. He circled his tiny hand around the base of Kensei’s cock and leaned forward.

Kensei opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what, but then the head of his cock was sliding past Schiffer’s lips, and the tip of the bastard’s tongue was teasing and caressing, and it had just been so fucking long, that Kensei just groaned long and low.

Schiffer’s lips parted and he took Kensei in easily, right down to the base. 

‘Fuck!’

The smaller man’s gleaming, dark lips were stretched wide, and Kensei was panting and incoherent, and he didn’t think he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

And then Schiffer pressed his tongue flat against Kensei’s shaft, and Kensei had to grip the edge of the desk to keep his knees from buckling.

The fucker had a tongue ring.

He was winding it in slow, lazy curves up and down the shaft. Kensei felt his thighs tremble. It wasn’t quite enough to tip him over, but it drew his arousal out and on and up, and somehow he felt like he was _just_ ready to blow.

And Schiffer seemed to be made for just this very thing. He was somehow sucking and swallowing and stroking all at once, and the wet mouthfucking noises were just _fucking_ obscene, and then Schiffer sped up and it felt like the little fucker was taking him even _deeper_ and before Kensei could stop it or even pull himself together long enough to say something, his orgasm had completely gutted him. He put his fist over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and sinking his teeth into his own flesh to keep himself from fucking roaring.

When he found that he could breathe again, he realised there were tears on his cheeks. His tongue felt dry and strange; probably from gasping for air. He wasn’t sure he could even move it. He wasn’t sure he could move at all.

Schiffer had delicately licked him clean and gotten smoothly to his feet, buttoning Kensei’s pants back up. ‘Is that all you required of me?’ he asked, his voice as flat and quiet as always, his eyes just as dead and calm.

Kensei was completely spent - part of him wondered if he’d ever come that hard again - but he felt a painful twinge in his groin. Schiffer’s lips were crushed, bruise-red, swollen and gleaming. And he was wiping jizz off his chin, casually, daintily, like it was nothing. 

Fuck.

‘Do not bother me again.’

He wanted to say something to the retreating man, but it was hard to speak: it isn’t my tongue, he thought, and then wondered why. There was something on his tongue. The weird dry feeling was something in his mouth. And, he realised, as reality crept back to him in increments, he could taste blood.

He spat it onto his palm – it was a thin, light brown… thing, weirdly familiar, and covered in blood.

His glove.

He’d bitten a piece off his glove. And torn the skin on the back of his hand, too.

The door clicked shut.

‘Fuckdammit. Fuck it all.’


End file.
